


young love, full of faith

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist!Steve, Fluff, Fluff everywhere, Multi, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, because why not, bucky makes his love for pumpkin spice lattes known, original character is a puppy, sam is good bro, shrinkyclinks, so is nat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3472463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky doesn't have much going on in his life since he left the army (and his arm) behind. A chance encounter in the park brings Cap, a golden retriever, and his owner, one Steve Rogers, into his small world. A story of a man who's fallen to pieces and falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Bucky Barnes meets a blush-y stranger

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is my first go at a long fic. Let's hope I finish it before I run out of steam and leave it unfinished! *crosses fingers* Updates every Sunday/Monday????  
> *strums guitar* Anyway, here's Wondertrash.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cutie with a booty spotted in the park! Cap takes a liking to Tall, Dark, and Handsome (and so does his owner)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *writes id-fic instead of filling out financial aid stuff for college* what do you mean, I need to set my priorities straight? I'm bi

Bucky’s strolling through Prospect Park with a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich in one hand and a pumpkin spice latte in the other. He’s concentrating on not crushing the cup with his giant metal Fuck Off arm from Stark Industries and wallowing in his lonesomeness, which is why he doesn’t notice the massive horse thundering towards him.

“Cap! Come back here! Bad boy!”

Okay, so it’s not a horse as much as it is a golden retriever, which he realizes as soon as he’s on the receiving end of a wet nose and lolling tongue. It’s circling his legs, nudging at his knees and occasionally making whining noises, staring at the sandwich in his hand the entire time.

The owner runs up to them, panting. God, but he’s small- five foot six if he was an inch. Bucky thinks that he’d fit nicely under his chin.

“I’m- so- sorry,” puffs the guy, in between each word.

“Cap just gets- really excited- about food.”

“It’s fine, pal,” says Bucky around a mouthful of his sandwich, just because he’s a little shit and wants to tease the dog a bit.

It whines some more and he bends down to pet it, but then looks up at the scrawny man and raises an eyebrow for permission.

“You mind if I..?”

“Yeah, go ahead. Cap’s just super friendly. He’s never bitten anyone in his life, but, uh,” he rubs the back of his neck and watches Bucky stuff the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, crumpling the aluminum foil into his pocket to toss out later, and reaching out to scratch around Cap’s ears.

“He gave me a concussion once? Like, he kinda jumped on me and threw me off balance and then I fell over and hit my head pretty hard. Luckily I was out with my friends and they called an ambulance, got me to get checked out.”

He laughs sheepishly, and picks up the red leash, twirling it a couple times around his bony wrist to make sure Cap doesn’t escape again.

“Hey.”

Bucky straightens and tilts his head in the direction they were both walking in.

“You wanna walk the rest together? It gets lonely by myself and I wouldn’t mind having some company, especially two charming partners such as yourselves.”

He can hear the guy’s breathing hitch, and then those clear eyes are meeting his, sharp and blue above pinkening cheeks.

“Yeah,” he says, dipping his head. Blond hair flops over his eye and a knobby, long-fingered hand reaches up to brush it away.

“Yeah-sure, that’d be great. I’m Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers.”

Bucky takes the offered hand. It’s cold and wide and the tendons flutter like moth wings under tissue-thin skin. He holds it carefully, loosely, lest he squeezes too hard and shatters Steve’s toothpick bones.

“James Buchanan Barnes. Call me Bucky.”

They relax their grips and let their arms fall back to their sides. Bucky wonders if maybe Steve held on longer than was usual for a handshake, but dismisses the thought.

They start walking again, Cap darting over to sniff a leaf every so often, then bounding back with his ears flapping around his head.

“Energetic dog you got there,” says, Bucky, after the fifth time Cap rushes up to slobber at Steve’s knuckles where the strap is curled tightly around them.

“Mmm,” nods Steve, “he’s still a puppy, barely a year old. Was volunteering at the shelter and met this lil guy jumping around, yapping for attention. Couldn’t leave him there now, could I? He loves the spotlight. Don’t you, boy?”

The golden retriever is back at Steve’s side now, trotting along sedately for the moment. He looks up, and woofs softly.

They both laugh at that, and Bucky becomes lost in the way the corners of Steve’s eyes crinkle, how his dark lashes sweep down to cast long shadows over the crooked line of his nose.

“He really gets me, you know. We were both so lost and alone- before- and now, he has friends at the dog run and his obedience classes, and he’s always there for me, no matter what.”

Steve’s shoulders are set like stone under his brown leather jacket, jaw suddenly hard.

“I’d love to find the bastard who abandoned him. Nobody deserves that kinda treatment.”

And maybe it’s a bit fast, but Bucky wants to kiss him right now, tip his chin up and kiss away whatever’s reminding him of the hurt he’s gone through, until all he can be angry about is chewed up shoes and Bucky’s bad puns.

But all he does is bump him with his shoulder.

“He’s happy now, though, isn’t he? The both of you. You’re happy now, and you’ve got each other, and that’s good.”

Bucky’s words are stilted and awkward, but Steve’s lips curve up, and the bitterness is forgotten.

“We are,” he says, “and we do.”

They’re nearing the park exit now, and Bucky realizes that this is where they part ways, except, he doesn’t want to.

Bucky chews at his lip, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Well, looks like-“

“D’ya wanna get coffee with me?” Steve blurts, then glances at the pumpkin spice latte still in Bucky’s hand.

“Or, I mean, I dunno-“

“Lunch. We could get lunch, if you’re hungry.”

And Steve brightens.

“I know a place. Best Thai in the city.”

“Lead the way, then.”

So Steve does, with an achingly comfortable familiarity of the Brooklyn streets that is written into the swing of his arms and the scuffing of his boots. Bucky knows it as well. What kind of city boy would he be if he couldn’t find his way through his hometown with his eyes closed?

On the way there, Bucky learns that Steve is an art student at NYU, and works at a tattoo parlor part-time. He speaks French and drinks his coffee black.

“I’m a broke-ass twenty year old college student. If I can save money buying less sugar and cream than I need, then that’s what I’m gonna do. I like to pretend that it makes me hardcore,” he laughs, pointedly staring at Bucky’s drink.

“Hey fuck you, pal. Pumpkin Spice is life,” Bucky snaps, curling over his paper cup and taking a loving sip. “Don’t listen to Black and Bitter here. Daddy loves you.”

Steve cracks up, hunching over. “Do you have all your friends call you daddy?”

And fuck, maybe he’s being gross and perverted, but Bucky can’t help but picture Steve, defiant and small, under him, in his bed.

Steve must’ve realized it too, with the way his eyes grow wide as his lips part, gazing at the way Bucky’s throat is exposed under his unbuttoned Henley, the way the fabric pulls over his muscular torso. His gaze flickers down Bucky’s body and trails back up again, unyielding despite the redness of his face.

He clears his throat. “There it is,” shouts Steve, turning away to motion his head towards a dingy little restaurant, the moment broken.

***

Steve leaves Bucky outside with Cap while he orders. Bucky can see him jittering his leg standing in line and makes eye contact with him, smiling through the glass.

Yep, Bucky thinks to himself as he waves. _I’m fucked_.

***

They end up walking to Steve’s apartment, because it’s closer and he doesn’t want to leave Cap outside the restaurant while he eats. It’s a lovely brownstone in Bed-Stuy, and Bucky can’t believe a poor student like Steve can afford it.

“I have a friend,” Steve explains, “He owns the building. I mean, I also have a roommate who helps with the rent. But. Clint’s a pretty great landlord. Eccentric. Wears a lot of purple, for some reason. Cap gets along with his dog.”

Steve draws close, and says to Bucky, sotto voce, “We don’t know if his name is Lucky or Pizza Dog, but he looks awfully like a dog some tracksuit gang members had with them when they used to hang around outside the building. Pretty weird, right?”

He’s leaning back and digging around for his keys.

“But Clint makes us feel safe. His prices are reasonable and he’s always standing around with a bow and a quiver of arrows, so I guess we’re protected, huh?”

They reach the downstairs door, and Bucky’s trying to muster up some courage to ask for Steve’s phone number but Steve, the scamp, beats him to the punch.

“So, um, I might be moving too fast, but-“

 “Do you wanna come up and see my etchings?”

Steve’s grinning through his blush, but his eyebrows are waggling and he’s looking at him hopefully, and Bucky feels the corners of his mouth tugging up as well.

“Lead the way, pal.”

***

Steve’s apartment is clean but cluttered, with wide windows and gleaming floors. There’s a tiny kitchen and a large living room without anything dividing the two. A dim hallway holds a few doors- bedrooms and bathroom, presumably. There’s a used mug and spoon in the sink and dog toys under the coffee table. Bookcases line the walls, and Bucky can spot a record player in one of the little nooks.

Artwork nearly covers the wall- exposed brick, think Bucky internally. _So hipster-y._ There are paintings and pencil and charcoal sketches, watercolors and ink drawings of cityscapes and peoples’ faces, all beautifully rendered. Even Bucky, the uncultured swine that he is, can tell that this took skill.

“Holy crap Steve, I didn’t know you were this good.”

Steve glances over from where he’s emptying the plastics bags onto the coffee table.

“Thanks. Those were just things I did for fun. The more serious stuff is in my room. I’ll show you after we eat.”

Bucky drifts over to where the smell of food is strongest, and plops down.

***

They’re sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, takeout cartons laid around them. Cap’s leash and collar have been removed, and he’s drooling quietly in a corner with a manky-looking teddy bear.

“So you’re tellin’ me you ain’t seen Star wars _or_ Star Trek? What kinda rock are you living under, kid?”

“An immovable rock with no wifi, according to Sam. He’s horrified by the fact that I don’t know who Marvin Gaye is. He keeps threatening to lock me in my room with nothing but his entire discography, or at least, the Troubleman soundtrack.”

Bucky likes this Sam guy, and tells Steve so.

“You can’t help but like him, really,” brags Steve, “he’s a great guy- if a little crazy about birds.”

This, apparently, is the perfect time for Steve to launch into how he met Sam, running around the Central Park reservoir.

“So I’m trying to catch my breath, and I haven’t anything going on but this sad little old-person shuffle-“ He gets up to demonstrate, slumping forward with his socked feet slowly stomping on the wood and his fists tucked close to his chest, “and this big guy comes barreling by me, and goes ‘on your right!’ except, this was only the first time. He does this two more times, literally running circles around me, and the third time, I’m lying on the grass and he just comes up to me and introduces himself, all smug, the fucker.”

Steve shakes his head. The food is growing cold, but Bucky is completely entranced by this wonder of a human being.

“He shakes my hand, says he works over at the VA and spouts some bullcrap about being happy, and then asks me what made me happy. Only, I didn’t have an answer, you know? So he invites me over to come join him at the shelter he volunteers at sometimes and told me he was looking for a roommate, and a few months, we’re living together with a puppy!”

They both look over at Cap, who is slobbering peacefully, curled around his stuffed animal.

“And for the first time in a while, I feel good about everything in my life.”

He stuffs some noodles into his mouth and awkwardly takes a swig of water.

“Sorry if I’m being really weird telling you about myself. I just don’t really get out much to meet new people. Sam keeps trying to set me up on blind dates, says I’ll die a bachelor and a virgin with five hundred strays. Probably right, too.”

They eat in silence for a while, and Bucky is grateful for that. He’s not really ready to talk about himself yet, and besides, he doesn’t think he can form a coherent sentence right now,

After he pushes an empty container away, Bucky sits up and rolls his neck.

“So how about those etchings?”

Steve chokes on a sip of water and sputters.

“I, uh, do have etchings if you want to look at ‘em? Sorry, it’s just- artist humor, you know? I’ve always wanted to use that line, and—“

Steve is save by the scrape of a key in the lock. A few seconds later, a tall, muscular guy with a trimmed beard and cheerful, gap-toothed smile is kicking his shoes off and hopping over to the spread.

He bends down and hugs Steve tightly, mashing his cheek against the top of Steve’s mop of blond hair, running sharp eyes over Bucky with a strange look on his face.

“Oooh, is that Thai I smell? Gimme, Rogers.”

“Hi Sam, nice to see you too. These are for you. I got your favorites.”

Steve hands Sam a couple boxes still in their bags.

 “Ugghhh Steve, man, have I ever told you how much I love you? I do, you know. ‘Cuz I don’t think I have. I need to tell you more often, you deserve it. Oh, hey there, stranger, I’m Sam. Wilson. My mother calls me Samuel Wilson so you should just call me Sam. Or Wilson, but that’s what my CO used to call me, but I don’t really care as long as you don’t call me late for dinner!”

He chuckles to himself, salutes Bucky with a pair of chopsticks, and falls upon his food with a hunger fearsome to behold.

“Charming, Sam, really,” drawls Steve. “I’m gonna go show Bucky here my portfolio, okay? You’re cleaning up when you’re done.”

Steve grabs Bucky’s hand and practically drags him down the hall, ignoring Sam’s shout to leave the door open and “no funny business, young man! I want clothes on and no hands below the belt!”

“Sorry,” Steve says once the door closes on Sam’s laughter, “He loves embarrassing me in front of people I like.”

“Ah,” nods Bucky, trying to hide his glee, as Steve turns a lovely shade of fuschia.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, steve, nobody gets your nerdy art jokes.  
> *edit* AH CRAP I JUST REMEMBERED THAT PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES ARE SEASONAL D:  
> Okay let's all pretend Bucky found a tiny cafe that carries them year-round or something  
> Also please please please forgive me if the characters are OOC. I'm still learning :)  
> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


	2. In which there is a girl's night in and Bucky Barnes acts like a doofus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girl's Night In at the Rogers-Wilson household! Or is it Wilson-Rogers? Becca Barnes susses out the identity of Bucky's new love interest and Cap tries to eat everything!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beware: fluff so tooth-rottingly sweet, I could feel my jaw aching while I wrote it. *whispers* I have a bio midterm this week

The apartment door closes behind Bucky as he strolls away with a song in his chest and Steve’s number in his phone. He feels light; ecstatic. Nothing in the world could possibly ruin his mood, not after the lovely day he’s had with Steve.

 _God_ , Steve. Just thinking his name makes Bucky shiver all over with delight.

***

Steve throws his thin arms around himself, warm to the core. He can hear the clicking of Bucky’s boots echoing around the corridor, and imagines that it’s Bucky coming back down the hallway. Wait.

“What.” He says blankly, as the steps grow louder, and eventually stop, a mere foot or so from his door.

Steve rises on his toes to peer through the peephole at Bucky’s figure, careful not to make a sound. He holds his breath as Bucky raises an arm to knock- once, twice, thrice- on the other side. Steve gives it a moment before swinging the door open, trying not to look too eager. Cap crowds his legs and drops his stuffed animal at Bucky’s feet, yipping excitedly.

“Hey,” Bucky says, lazily curling his lips into a grin as he rubs Cap’s head.

“Hey back,” shoots Steve. “Why’re you still here? The position for Tall, Dark, and Handsome has already been filled.”

“Damn straight!” shouts Sam, somewhere in the apartment. “You’d better not be replacing me, Rogers!”

Bucky goggles at that. He’d expected some blushing, maybe a cute stammer from Steve’s end- not this spiky little fireball. It turns him on, Steve being assertive.

“Are you offering to warm my bed for me, Wilson?”

No, scratch that- it _really_ turns him on.

“I thought I was already your kept man- am I your boy toy too?”

Steve flips Sam the bird, and turns back around to face Bucky, who’s leaning against the doorjamb, looking amused. “So I’m the other woman, huh? Gotta say, I never thought you’d be one for adultery. I kinda like it, though.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs, turning red. “Sam just likes to rile me up, the fucker.” He yells over his shoulder. “See who’s getting pancakes in the morning!”

Steve shifts his weight onto the other foot. “So, uh, why’d you come back?”

“I forgot something.”

“Come in and get your stuff then, old man.” Steve moves to step aside, but Bucky grabs his arm.

“I forgot to do this.” And Bucky gently tugs Steve into his space and ducks down to kiss him, tilting his chin up with a hand and thumbing at his lower lip. Their mouth meet and part, and then Bucky licks into that soft space, into that hot wetness where it tastes like Thai food and tea. It’s like the nectar of the gods, he could just drink it all down. Steve is panting like a racehorse into Bucky’s own mouth, and hoo boy does that gets his engine revving.

His heart beats a tattoo against the inside of his ribs. _Steve_ , it says. _Steve, Steve, Steve._

Long fingers wind their way into his hair and pull Bucky even closer, Steve’s smaller body tipping forward on his toes to press their chests together so tightly Bucky reckons a crowbar couldn’t pry them apart. He doesn’t ever want to let go. His hands drop down to curve around Steve’s slim waist, fingers slipping up and under the fabric of Steve’s untucked shirt.

They exchange a few more decadent kisses, Bucky’s tongue swiping across Steve’s plush lips, dropping tender pecks at the corner of his mouth. Bucky has to step back before he tries to take this any further, his head’s spinning with lust and want and so much affection for this newcomer.

 He has to brace himself against the wall to keep from sinking to the ground, and mentally pats himself on the back. _Smooth, Casanova._

Steve looks dazed and thoroughly debauched, his eyes half lidded and droopy, lips red and shining. Bucky knows what that mouth tastes like and he’s welling up with a greedy hunger again. He stops himself from going back for more.

Steve’s licking his chops and looks at Bucky like he wants to devour him, hand resting on Cap’s silky head while the dog leans against his legs.

“So, uh, yeah,” Bucky stutters, “Call me.”

Then he turns tail and runs away.

***

“Sam, oh my god, Sam,” sighs Steve from deep inside the couch, hugging a throw pillow to his chest. “It was like something out of a Harlequin romance, it was that cheesy, but _uuuughhh_ it was cheesy in such a good way!”

Steve’s pocket starts buzzing as Frank Sinatra croons from his phone. _Fly me to the moon,_ he sings, as Cap howls along, before he’s cut off.

“Hello?”

“Hi Steve,” says Bucky. “I miss you.”

Steve blushes. “Miss you too, Buck.”

He clears his throat. “Anyway, I thought I was supposed to call first?”

“Don’t worry about that. Ah, fuck-“A jingle from the other side. Must have dropped his keys.

“Look, I just wanted to ask you out for dinner, if you’re free next Saturday. I’ve been wanting to try out this new diner my friend works at.”

“No, yeah, sure,” Steve affirms. “Sounds perfect.”

“So do you. Bye, Stevie!”

Bucky hangs up.

Steve squeals into the pillow and Cap licks at the back of his neck, whining.

“Okay, okay, man, stop before you explode. You’re making Cap worry,” chuckles Sam. “First, we’re gonna talk about how cute that was. Seriously. I’d eat you up myself if Bucky isn’t willing. Like a delicious little Twinkie.”

Sam drops a spoon into the sink and squirts a mountain of whipped cream into two mugs. It’s already beginning to break apart and dissolve into the hot chocolate. He walks over to the couch and hands one to Steve, ignoring Cap’s lunge for the mug.

“Here.”

Steve gratefully wraps his hands around the ceramic and takes a sip hunched over to prevent Cap from sticking his nose in it. His knees are bent up and his feet are tucked into the crevice between two cushions, back against the armrest. Sam places his mug onto the coffee table, flapping Cap away, and maneuvers Steve around so that Sam’s side is propping Steve up. He burrows into Sam’s bulk until all Sam can see is Steve’s little toes and his spiky blond hair.

Sam retrieves his own mug and slurps at the cream. He taps at his phone, pulling up Seamless while searching through Netflix on his laptop at the same time.

“Second, we’re having girl’s night here in the Wilson-Rogers abode. We’re gonna watch a rom-com and some chick flicks, order some pizza, invite Peggy and Sharon over, bake some shit, and talk about Barnes, got that?”

Steve nods happily, the back of his head rubbing into Sam’s shoulder. The Princess Bride title screen comes into view on the television. He gives in, and scoops up a fingerful of cream to hold out to Cap, laughing as his ticklish tongue scraped over his hand.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sam.”

***

A few hours later, Steve is in the middle of a warm cuddle-pile, tucked in between Peggy and Sam, his feet stuffed under the hard muscles of Sam’s thigh. All four of them are dressed in their pajamas, the official Girl’s Night outfit, according to their rulebook.

13 Going On 30 is on mute, and the gang is chatting about everything and nothing.

“We’ve got, like, four months until prom but everyone’s already chosen their dresses and shit,” grumbles Sharon. She’s eight years younger than Peggy and is graduating from high school this summer. “There’s a Facebook page for the pictures of the outfits and everything.” The oven door slams shut, and then Sharon’s whipping off her oven mitts and wiping down the counters. “Slutty brownies are go, bitches. _No, Cap_ ,” Sharon scolds, nudging him away with a foot. He slides on the hardwood floor, claws scrabbling for purchase.

Peggy crooks a perfect eyebrow at her younger sister. “Language,” she chided in her soft voice. She’d been raised in London and had taken on the accent, but her family had moved back to the States when she was seven, which was why Sharon and their parents spoke with a New York accent.

Sharon raises an eyebrow back at her. “What, like I don’t hear you calling the shower an incompetent whore every time the water comes out cold?”

Peggy laughs and shakes her head, brown curls bouncing around her neck. Steve blinks drowsily from his vantage point on her lap and reaches out a hand to pat at her shining locks. Peggy pauses from petting Steve’s hair to kiss his wrist and Steve brings it down to inspect the neat red print of her lipstick.

“’S pretty, Pegs. What color is it?”

“Cherry bomb.” Peggy digs around in her purse to show him the tube of lipstick. Steve starts mentally calculating the kinds of red he has to mix together to copy it. _Some cadmium red, definitely_ , he thinks, _and maybe alizarin crimson, too_.

Sam tosses a crumpled napkin into the empty pizza box on the floor as Sharon comes back around the couch drying off her hands and plops into a squishy armchair, taking out Sam’s laptop to look at prom dresses. Cap clambers into her lap, digging his wet nose into her ear. Sharon sighs and takes a plastic bag of dog treats out of her pocket, feeding one to Cap.

“You’re def helping me pick out my dress, Steve,” she warns. “You may dress like a hipster grandpa but your eye for color is spot on. Now dish. What’s this I’ve been hearing of a handsome young man come your way?”

It’s kind of incredible, how Sharon can change track so easily. She was so forceful and blunt. It was part of why they had dated for a bit.

“Steve’s got a cruuush,” singsongs Sam, as Steve groans into Peggy’s knee.

“Ooooh, tell us more,” Peggy teases. “Who’s replacing us?”

Steve briefly wonders why his closest friends are all the people he’s had romantic relationships with, and curses himself for finding such lovely partners.

“His name’s James Barnes, but he likes to be called Bucky. It’s short for his middle name, Buchanan.”

 _Trust my history professor dad to name me after one of the presidents nobody remembers_ , Bucky had said. _When I have kids, I ain’t ever gonna subject them to that kinda pain._

“Cute,” say Sharon and Peggy simultaneously, while Sam snickers evilly. Cap barks, joining in.

Steve stands up and immediately regrets it as all the blood rushes from his head. “Okay, who’s up for ice cream?”

***

Becca is all up in Bucky’s face as soon as he walks into her apartment.

“Okay, spill, who’s the lucky girl?”

Bucky slaps a hand over Becca’s face and then instantly recoils as she licks his palm.

“Ew!” she cries, as he wipes it on her cheek.

“Serves you right,” says Bucky, flipping through the mail as he boils a pot of water for pasta.

“Guy, by the way. Name’s Steve Rogers. How did you know?”

His sister pointedly taps at her pursed mouth with a nail. “You look like you’ve been getting hot and heavy with someone, Big Bro. Plus, your hair is all,” she flutters her fingers above her head, as if Bucky can understand.

He turns on the front facing camera on his phone and checks. His mouth is pink, and strands of hair have escaped his neat ponytail, from when Steve ran his fingers through it. He looks as if he’s been necking like crazy.

“Oh.”

Becca waggles her eyebrows.

“You seeing him again?”

And Bucky can’t even pretend to be irritated at her, he’s so completely head over heels for Steve. “Yeah,” Bucky sighs wistfully. “Soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fivesome at the Wilson-Rogers abode???? Maybe...  
> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


	3. In which Bucky Barnes discovers that Steve Rogers is a kinky little guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve immediately adores Nat and Bucky is maybe a teensy bit jealous. Also, What's New, Pussycat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself hungry writing this.

Steve wipes his clammy hands on his denim-clad thighs and looks out the window. Bucky said he’d be there at 6:00, but it was already 6:07, and a couple of the waiters and patrons had started to give him pitying looks.

“Need anything?” Steve startles in his booth and looks up.

And blinks. In front of him is a curvy redhead, dressed up in the 50s themed waitress outfit, notepad held loosely in one hand. She’s beautiful and deadly, looking like she could eat twenty of him for breakfast. The nametag reads _Natasha_.

She blows a pink bubble and snaps it.

Steve breathes in the scent of bubblegum, and looks down at the menu.

“Um, yeah, just a Coke, please. I’m waiting for someone-“

The door tinkles open, and Bucky is there, looking windswept and panicked, with a crazy look in his eye.

“STEP AWAY FROM MY BOYFRIEND, NAT!” shouts Bucky, striding over to tuck Steve’s face into the crook of his neck. _Warm_ , Steve’s brain supplies. He smells clean, as if he’d come fresh from the shower. Some of the other diners are starting to look over, curious.

The waitress- _Nat-_ rolled her eyes. “Barnes-“

“No! You’re not going to take him away!”

Bucky turns to Steve, putting on a show.

“Stevie, babydoll, tell me you’re not going to leave me for someone better,”

“Like me,” mutters Natasha under her breath.

“Or more beautiful-“

Natasha points at herself.

“Or, heck, even sexier than myself!”

Nat leers down at Steve, who’s twisted himself around in Bucky’s embrace to peer up at them both.

“First of all, Bucky, you’re crazy-“

“Oh, thank god someone else saw that,” says Natasha, long-sufferingly.

“-To believe that I could ever stay with you after I met Natasha!” Steve grins, though he’s blushing all the way down to his chest.

Bucky groans, letting go of Steve to slide into the seat opposite him.

“Look what you’ve done, Nat! Our relationship, so new and pure, and you’ve already charmed him over to your side, you devilish enchantress!”

“And what side would that be? Heterosexuality? Because you and I both know I’m asexual.”

Steve tipped his head to the left. “And I’m bi as fuck, Bucky, so I haven’t really crossed over to any side.”

“Yeah, yeah, and I love pans,” says Bucky, then drops the act. “Anyway, _lovely_ to be seeing you here, Ginger. Nice apron. I’d like a cheeseburger with large fries, pickles on the side, thanks. Oooh, and a large vanilla milkshake.”

Natasha swats the back of his head with her notepad, but dutifully writes it down.

“Um, grilled cheese?” Steve orders, haltingly.

“Good choice,” says Nat, who’s locked her gaze with Bucky’s as if they were in a staring contest. Then she smirks, runs her eyes appraisingly over Steve’s body, and saunters away.

“Oh, God,” chokes Steve. He feels a little lightheaded and can tell he’s burning red. He rubs his hands over his face. “Ugh, fuck, she’s terrifying and devastating. Like a wolf or something.”

Bucky looks over, worried. “You okay, pal?”

“No, no, yeah, I’m fine. I just.” Steve lets out a shuddering breath. “Oh my God, I’d happily let her walk up and down my spine with stilettos on.”

Bucky’s starting to look genuinely unseated now. “Uh, Steve, you’re not really gonna leave me for her, are ya? I mean, that was all just a game.”

“And she can play me however she wants,” mumbles Steve. “Sorry, I just have a thing for women who could walk all over me. Two of my exes, actually, are a lot like her. Very, you know, dominating.”

He straightens his napkin, and looks down into his lap at his hands. “Don’t worry, Buck, I’m not gonna dump you for Natasha. I like you too much for that.”

Bucky watches him a bit longer, trying not to imagine Steve on his knees with a silhouette of a woman holding a whip. He tries, seriously, but it’s really hot, and anyway, Steve brought it up in the first place.

“So you’re into that Fifty Shades of Grey stuff?” Bucky asks, wincing when his voice cracked embarrassingly.

Steve shakes his head. “That’s not. That isn’t BDSM. That’s abuse.” He meets Bucky’s eyes. “But I know what you mean.” Steve nods slowly. “Yeah. I guess. I’ve experimented a bit in the past.”

And oh shit, now Bucky _really_ can't help but imagine Steve in his bed, wrists tied neatly to the headboard.

“We could. Try that sometime. Maybe. If you want,” Bucky stammers.

He’s saved from making any other idiotic comments as their plates are placed in front of them.

***

The two of them are digging into the most heavenly apple pie Steve’s ever had. The crust is flaky and warm, the filling is cinnamony and sweet, filling his mouth with the taste of flowers and apples. The ice cream is slowly melting over the top, and he scooped up a bite, letting it sit on his tongue.

He would marry this pie.

***

Bucky has to tear his gaze away from the sight of Steve’s pink mouth fellating the spoon.

“Oh, hey, is that a jukebox in the corner?”

Steve peers around until he spots the machine. He smiles darkly around his fork.

“Have you ever heard of John Mulaney?”

***

Bucky finishes selecting a song from the ancient jukebox, humming along as he shimmies back to his seat.

_Pussycat, Pussycat, I've got flowers/And lots of hours/To spend with you./So go and powder your cute little pussycat nose!_

Bucky leans over and taps Steve’s nose.

“Boop!”

“Oh my God that’s like the cutest thing I have ever seen. Literally get out right now.”

Natasha appears like a specter from behind Steve’s bench. She’s changed out of her waitress outfit and into a hoodie, tight jeans, and high heels.

Nat hip-checks Steve’s shoulder. “Scoot.” Steve obediently slides down to make room for her, looking only a little bit overwhelmed.

Bucky glares. Natasha’s slung an arm around Steve and pulled him tight against her side. They sit like that until Tom Ford’s voice trails away. Then returns.

“Oh no.”

_What’s new, Pussycat?_

_“_ You didn’t.”

_Whoa whoa_

“John Mulaney?”

“Yep,” chorus Steve and Bucky. “It was all Steve’s idea,” pipes Bucky, slurping at his milkshake.

“Clever boy,” Natasha murmurs, and Steve flushes as red as the cherry on Bucky’s second milkshake.

Bucky chomps down on the straw. Steve searches his face from under his lashes, and Bucky feels the toe on a boot gliding up and down his calf. _Jesus Christ on a cracker_ , thinks Bucky. Nat must have noticed, because she’s standing up and patting Steve’s cheek goodbye.

“I’ll catch you later, loser,” she tosses over her shoulder, and winks at Steve. “See ya, kitten!”

_Pussycat, Pussycat, you're delicious/And if my wishes/Can all come true/I'll soon be kissing your sweet little pussycat lips!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 4:00 am and I have no regrets??? Also, can't you totally see Steve falling head over heels for powerful women? I guess that's why he dated Peggy and Sharon.  
> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


	4. In which Bucky Barnes falls asleep and Steve draws a lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys Skype. Bucky makes lasagna and Steve draws stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write some plot but noooooo, the boys wanted fluff and smiles, so I gave them fluff and smiles. Fictional characters deserve to be happy.

“Hey.” Steve hums, drawing a line on his tablet.

Bucky watches for a second, then tries again. He can hear Frank Sinatra piping in through his speakers, tinny, but comforting all the same.

“Stevie.” He makes a dissatisfied noise, and selects _undo_.

Bucky shrugs and leaves him to his work. No use distracting an artist when he was busy trying to fill commissions- especially when said artist was someone as stubborn and focused as Steve.

They don’t have much time to go out on dates, what with Steve being a college student and having his part-time job at the tattoo parlor and Bucky busy with his own college classes and his Stark Industries internship. They hardly see each other in person, not counting the many brief coffee dates in between lectures and shifts, which is why they’re Skyping right now.

Well, Bucky’s Skyping. Steve is working.

Bucky clicks away from the livestream where Steve is doing the linework for his piece and switches to Skype. He looks down at the live video feed of his (boyfriend? Person he’s dating?) friend and stares at the fine bones of Steve’s fingers, folded around his stylus. He’d love to hold them again, those lovely artist’s hands in his own wide, callused ones, stick them in his mouth and feel them curl against his palate.

Bucky sighs and crosses his legs, squirming uncomfortably in his desk chair. He refuses to think about that in front of Steve, not when they haven’t even…well. Anyway, he won’t.

After another half hour or so, Steve looks up, flushed with pride. Sinatra’s voice has been replaced by Beyoncé.

“Done.”

Bucky sets down his pen, shoving a doodle of a motorcycle to the side. He goes back to the livestream tab.

“Holy cra- annoli,” gapes Bucky, “ _Steve_.”

It’s not a commission. It’s a picture of Sam, rendered so lifelike Bucky nearly expects him to start moving on the screen. He’s a superhero character or something, decked out in a heavy vest, with a pair of goggles sitting on his head, eyes screwed in the bright sunlight, gap-toothed smile wide and joyful. A pair of mechanical-looking wings spread from his back, like a giant dragonfly or falcon or something. Sam looks like he’s about to leap into action.

“Crannoli?” Steve snorts, but looks pleased. “It’s for his birthday that’s coming up,” He explains. “He served with the 58th Pararescues or something? Anyway, I wanted to do something nice and personal for him.”

“He’s going to _love_ it,” Bucky gushes. “When’s his birthday?”

“Next Wednesday. Me and the gals’re gonna bake the cake while he’s at work. You can come if you’re not busy…”

Bucky hesitates. He’s got on really well with Sam, and Steve has assured him several times that the girls approve of him, though they’ve never met. Frankly, he’s flattered to be important enough already to be mentioned to Steve’s closest friends. Or, rather, his exes. The whole thing’s kinda confusing and weird, but cute at the same time.

Besides, his schedule is totally free next week. Stark’s finished with a new project and dismissed all interns for the month until the next great idea comes, so Bucky just has a couple afternoon classes to attend.

“You sure you guys won’t mind? I mean, Peggy and Sharon only know me from what you’ve told them about me, and I don’t wanna intrude…”

“Sam’ll want you there, trust me,” Steve says. He presses further. “He really considers you a friend. Please come?”

Bucky hesitates a bit longer. He does want to finally meet the rest of Steve’s friends, and really, he just likes the way Steve’s face gets all plaintive and his eyes go wide and how he pushes his plump lower lip out, gleaming and wet…

He gives in. “Alright,” he laughs, “If you’re gonna beg like that.”

***

They stay on Skype for the entire day. Bucky carries his laptop around while he cooks and cleans, and Steve carries his into the living room so Bucky can say hi to Cap and Sam while he fixes himself a sandwich.

“Hey Sam,” Steve says, around a mouthful of ham and cheese as he hefts his battered computer.

“Bucky’s here.”

Sam sits up on the couch and pauses the Nature documentary on penguins. He spots the laptop and stretches towards it while Bucky waves. “Barnes? Ooooh, give!”

Steve hands it over and devotes himself to eating his sandwich. He’d been holed up in his room for half the morning doing Sam’s piece, and had forgotten to eat. Bucky’s stern reminder brought him back out into the world when Steve had tried to reach through the screen to grab his lasagna.

Sam and Bucky are fanboying over Nicki Minaj’s new album by the time Steve finishes inhaling the crumbs off his plate. Cap ambles over to inspect Steve’s computer.

“Cap, no!” All three yell, as the dog tries to lick the screen.

All in all, it’s a great way to be able to talk to each other while they do their work.

***

“James,” Natasha singsongs, as she comes into the apartment, kicking off her boots. “I’m home.” She rummages through the freezer and pulls out a bottle of vodka with a soft “aha!”

There’s leftover lasagna in the fridge, too, so she tosses it into the microwave and goes into the living room to wait.

Bucky’s slumped on the couch, his laptop balanced on the arm. Natasha pulls a fleece blanket over his body, and out of curiosity, touches the mousepad to see what he’s been doing. _Not porn,_ _I hope_.

The screen brightens to show her the top of Steve’s head, bent over his sketchbook.

“Steve?”

He glances over and smiles. “Hi Natasha, is Bucky awake yet?”

She shakes her head. “Still asleep. Idiot’s taking up the entire couch. How long has he been like that?”

Steve’s eye flick down to the lower corner of the display, squinting at the time. “Uh, three hours, give or take. He started to nod off around nine, but forgot to turn off his computer.”

They share a fond smile before Natasha breaks the comfortable silence.

“So you’ve been watching him sleep? A regular little Edward Cullen, aren’t you?”

She snickers as Steve sputters, outraged, and takes a swig from the bottle.

“Or maybe you’ve been drawing him the entire time. Let me see, Rogers.”

Steve turns fifty shades of red, but grudgingly holds up his sketchbook. Natasha would’ve choked on the vodka if she were a lesser woman, but only just. The creamy paper is filled with pencil sketches of Bucky’s callused hands and the bend of his wrist. He’s also drawn Bucky sleeping with his mouth slack and drooling, hair looking like a rat’s nest. Steve makes it all look attractive.

“Rogers,” She murmured, “you’re head over heels with the fool, you know that?”

“Yeah,” whispers Steve, so softly, she could barely hear it. “I know.”

Natasha smiles, and goes into the kitchen to stop the microwave before it beeps.

She leaves the computer where it is and retreats into her room to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg Nat, you're so hardcore. Also, everyone goes crazy for bucky's insane lasagna. Seriously, it's that good. (It's how he woos his romantic interests- the way to a boy' heart is through his stomach, amirite? I once trained a guy to associate me with bananas by giving him one every day lol)   
> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


	5. In which Bucky Barnes surprises his boyfriend and Cap visits the city

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Cap surprise their favorite human with lunch. Steve, of course, is very happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I wouldn't give to have a cute guy and puppy bring me food. *sighs* Enjoy!

_Never Gonna Give You Up_ blares obnoxiously from Bucky’s phone. He glances at the display. It’s Sam.

 “Quick, Nat, what instrument did I play when I was thirteen?”

She glares at him. “I refuse to play this game.”

Bucky dodges the pillow flying his way and answers the phone. “Cello?” He ignores Nat’s groan and flips her the finger.

“Hey Barnes,” greets Sam, “So Steve’s getting out of his morning class soon, and Cap needs a walk. Wouldn’t it be nice of his boyfriend to treat him to coffee in between classes?”

Bucky can practically see the satisfied smirk on his face. It would be nice to surprise Steve, though.

“And ooh, isn’t it great that his roommate happens to know the places he frequents?”

“Just give it to me,” Bucky bites out. He’s not playing games.

Nat snickers. “That’s what she said.”

“Okay, okay, Sergeant Snappy,” Sam teases, but he gives him the address anyway. It’s somewhere in lower Manhattan. “Come over to pick up Cap. He loves going into the city.”

***

Sam meets him at the door with Cap’s leash in hand. The golden retriever must know something exciting is up, he’s wagging his tail so hard Bucky can feel the breeze from where he’s standing. His collar’s been switched out with a harness-type thing, so he doesn’t choke himself running at his favorite people.

“Have fun with Cap,” winks Sam, and closes the door.

Bucky looks down. Cap looks up at him, teeth bared in a doggy-grin.

“’s just you and me now, huh buddy?”

***

Bucky remembers too late that big dogs like Cap aren’t allowed on public transportation.

How long would it take to walk there?

***

It’s worth getting breathless and sweaty running all the way across the Brooklyn Bridge with an excitable dog by his side just to see the look on Steve’s face when he sees them there. He was nearly late, what with Cap stopping every two minutes to lick any old stranger’s hand.

“Holy shit, Bucky!” Steve exclaims, clapping a hand to his messenger bag so it won’t flap about and hurriedly clomps down the block in his boots. “Cap!”

The dog stands up and tries to run over to Steve. Bucky keeps a tight grip on the leash. He’s had enough exercise.

Bucky takes a surreptitious sniff of his shirt, hoping he doesn’t smell, and waves casually from his spot on the bench, holding up a paper bag. “Got you your favorites,” He starts, and then lets out a surprised grunt when Steve plops down on his lap to hug him. “Sam put you up to this?” Asks Steve from in between kisses.

“Yeah,” replies Bucky, trying to recover from the barrage, “He called me up and told me to surprise you.”

“I love it,” Steve declares, and takes out the brie and granny smith apple sandwich. He wiggles with delight and Bucky’s face flames up in mortification. _Steve, honey, no_.

And Steve must feel Bucky’s, erm, lower parts taking an interest in his moving bottom, because before Bucky knows what’s happening, Steve is taking a fierce bite out of his sandwich and moaning like a pornstar.

“Oh my god,” Steve mumbles around his mouthful, “So good.”

Bucky plays along. “Really?” A nod. “Lemme have a try,” and he sticks his tongue in Steve’s mouth to lick at the lingering taste of the apple and cheese.

Steve immediately shuts up as Bucky draws back looking much like the cat that caught the canary. “You’re right,” He says, and chomps down on the sandwich. Steve is stock still, completely taken aback.

“It’s delicious.”

***

They have to say separate an hour later as Steve departs for his afternoon class. He wastes an entire ten minutes kissing Bucky goodbye.

“You’re picking me up after, right?”

“Damn straight I will,” shouts Bucky, as Steve’s slender form disappears down the block. He misses him already.

“C’mon, Cap. We’ve got errands to run.”

He’s been meaning to drop by Forbidden Planet anyway.

***

Steve meets them in front of Strand, and does a double-take when he sees the stack of books in Bucky’s arms. “Whoa.”

“Yeah,” sighs Bucky, as he hands over the leash, “the $2 books got to me.” Steve hums. He, too, has fallen prey to the alluring call of the cheap book carts outside of Strand. Cap barely makes a noise, near catatonic with the amount of walking he’s done today. The dog is out of his mind blissed out.

They walk a couple avenues over and Bucky stops in front of a sleek, bright red hot-rod.

Steve whistles.

“’S not mine,” Bucky explains, as the car chirps cheerfully, “I had to call Nat and beg her to borrow her car. I owe her a month of dish duty now.”

“And she won’t mind Cap getting it all dirty?”

“Nah,” grunts Bucky, dumping the books into the trunk, while Steve nudges Cap into the backseat, “She said she’d do it for the dog, but if he makes a mess, she’d harvest my organs and use the money she’d get selling them on the black market to buy another car.”

They both shiver at that.

***

Walking up two flights of stairs with an armful of unconscious Steve wasn’t how Bucky imagined the night going, but he enjoyed it, all the same, especially since Steve was barely a buck twenty soaking wet.

Cap bounded up the stairs ahead of him and stopped in front of the door, pawing at the wood.

“Coming, coming.”

Sam’s familiar face appeared in the doorway and Cap shot into the apartment as Steve blinked awake.

“Uh.”

“Shhh, Stevie,” soothed Bucky, handing him over to Sam, “Go back to sleep.”

Reaching out, Steve hooks a finger into the collar of Bucky’s shirt and drags him in for a lazy kiss, warm and open-mouthed, before smiling and pushing him away.

“Had a great day,” he slurred, “You’re the bestest.”

Bucky drives back home in a daze, replaying the memory of Steve’s soft lips and hot tongue the entire way.

***

“Barnes.” Natasha snaps her fingers in front of his face as Bucky stares at the ceiling, splayed across his bed.

“Dinnertime, you lovesick idiot. I made lentil soup. You love lentil soup.”

“Mmmm.” Bucky’s head lolls over and he squints at Natasha. “Nat… his lips are so soft…they were like…”

He searches hard for a fitting word. He doesn’t find one. “…so soft…”

Natasha rolls her eyes and leaves the room. Fine. It wasn’t like she slaved over the soup for hours or anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cafe they meet at is Think Coffee on 4th avenue in lower Manhattan- it's a really nice place. Forbidden Planet and Strand are in that area too, so it's like paradise for me *drools* Oooh, also, I went out to karaoke with my squad Friday night (I sang a stirring rendition of Never Gonna Give You Up) so there might be a karaoke chapter coming up *winkwinknudgenudge* Shoot me any scenarios you want to see our boys in! (I've been bingeing on 74days' crazy good meet-cute series which is pretty much all Stucky fluff, so you should check that out if you like that sort of thing eheheh)  
> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


	6. In which Bucky Barnes discovers that Nat has a boyfriend and Steve likes dad-rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's back from the hospital! Rooftop barbecue is go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said to myself, "Alice, you should put out a higher word count. Either more chapters or longer ones. Your readers might be getting fidgety waiting for the next update, and we want to please our readers, right?"  
> "But Alice, you have to take notes on forty pages about the immune system. Remember the promise you made to yourself last week about not procrastinating ever again?"  
> *sighs*  
> Well, I've been waiting to write Clint Barton and his rockin' rooftop barbecues, so here's chapter 6! Enjoy!

There’s a sheet of fluttering paper stuck to the side of the building with electrical tape. Steve spots it while he’s unlocking the door. ROOFTOP BBQ 2NITE @ 7:30, it says in all caps, BRING SOMETHING 2 SHARE. The note is messily scrawled in ballpoint pen on the back of what looks like a flyer advertising a 30-day trial at a gym a few blocks over.

Clint’s back from the hospital.

***

**DUMBASS**

hey nat u coming 2 bbq @ my building 2day?

haven’t see u in ages

**Me**

I’ll be there.

***

“Get up, James. It’s 6:45 in the evening and you’re still in bed like a pathetic man-child. Up. _Now._ ”

Bucky burrows his face into his pillows and lets out a high-pitched whine.

“Shut up. We’re going out.”

The pillow and blankets are cruelly torn away, and Bucky is left feeling exposed, like a day-old cub without its mother, or a chick left to die, or a-

“Ow!” Bucky presses a hand to his lower back where Natasha’s punched him. A clean shirt and pants smack into his face.

“Get dressed. We have ten minutes.”

She stalks out, leaving Bucky’s bedroom door wide open, while he pitches backwards onto the mattress and groans.

\--

“Where are we going?” bugs Bucky as Natasha leads him out the door, “Will there be food?”

“Yes.”

Sometimes, Bucky wishes he’d chosen a friend who wasn’t so terrifying and mysterious.

\--

“Hey! It’s Steve’s building! Can we drop by and say hi to Sam and Steve?”

Natasha stops in front of the building. Bucky’s pleasantly surprised. She usually doesn’t do what he wants. Might as well make the most of it, then. He’s about to ask if they can go to the Indian place Natasha hates, but then-

…Wait, is she taking out a set of-

“Nat, are you picking the lock?”

She turns to face Bucky and pointedly turns the knob, pocketing the leather pouch. The door swings open.

“After you, princess.”

***

Clint’s dad rock lends a very suburban yard-barbecue feel to the rooftop in the middle of the city, and Steve is actually growing to like it.

The air smells like burning burgers and warm beer. The building’s residents mill about, chatting and laughing, catching up with each other. Steve stops to say hi to Tito and a girl with pink hair.

Sam has been dragged off by a pack of children to play a hand-game. He can hear them clapping and chanting over the music. “…5, 6, 7, 8, 9…10!” A kid groans with disappointment and the chanting starts again. “ _Quack diddly oso…_ ”

Clint’s dog (Lucky? Pizza Dog?) is wrestling happily with Cap after going weeks without seeing him. There used to be another golden retriever puppy in the building named Mitzi, who lived with an old Russian woman, but they both disappeared a couple years ago, before Steve lived here. He only knows because Clint once mentioned the animal fondly. That was around the time Clint had also become partially deaf in an accident, recalls Steve.

Clint’s currently grilling a bunch of kosher hot dogs in a corner of the roof, softly humming off-key to a song that isn’t even playing right now. Steve walks over, glad to see him again. He really needs to stop getting hit by cars and falling off buildings.

Steve effortlessly lets muscle memory tug his fingers into the right positions. _Hi C-L-I-N-T_ , he signs, as Clint looks up and grins lopsidedly. There are purple hearing aids in his ears.

“Steve-O!” shouts Clint, wrapping Steve in his impressively muscular arms and lifting his toes off the roof, still holding the burning hot tongs. Steve indulges him for a bit, but taps his back gently after a few seconds to be let down. Clint silently offers Steve a beer from a six-pack by his foot, cracking his own can open only to have it dribble down his purple bulls-eye shirt.

“Awwwww, beer,” He sighs, looking sadder than he should over a spilled drink.

“Great to see you too, Clint,” Steve laughs, because it really is. “’s been a while, hasn’t it? Looks like we need to review traffic etiquette and when to cross streets, because it looks like you-“

“Hey Dumbass!”

Hearing that voice, Clint whips his head around so quickly his face becomes a blur.

“Tasha!”

“Steve!”

“Bucky?”

***

Bucky doesn’t know what’s going on, but there’s food and bad music (really? Dire Straits?) and the night is warm and the people around him are friendly and generous, pushing a paper plate and drinks at him, so he’s happily confused, he supposes.

“Nat, what’s happening?”

She doesn’t deign to answer his question, but merely grabs his wrist and drags him across the rooftop like she’s homing in on a target.

Okay, so Bucky’s got a Steve-radar too, because as soon as he sets off in the direction she’s leading him in, it starts pinging in his head, _Steve that way_ , it’s saying. And he’s right, of course he’s right, because soon he’s making out a thin figure striding towards a dude bopping his head over by the grill.

“Nat, is that Steve?”

As they get closer, Bucky can see Steve’s long fingers flickering in front of his chest, signing something excitedly before he’s enfolded in a bear hug.

Before he knows it, Nat’s running headlong towards the two, shouting something that sounds suspiciously like ‘dumbass’ before launching herself at the guy and giving him a good knuckle sandwich to the chin, hugging him fit to burst.

“Steve!” cries Bucky, wanting to wave, but the plate and beer in his hands won’t let him, so he settles for spreading his arms like a total douchebag.

“Bucky?”

So it must be 80s rom-com day or something, because the soundtrack totally fits and now _Steve’s_ flying at him with flecks of beer flying from his hand and his knobby little elbows swinging every which way under the bunched up sleeves of his pullover hoodie.

Bucky’s fine with that.

***

“Bucky, Clint, Clint, Bucky,” says Steve, introducing the two. He’s holding Bucky’s hand, and though the space between their palms is getting clammy, neither of them have made a move to let go.

“Bucky’s my boyfriend and Clint’s my friend-slash-landlord,” Steve chirps, gesturing to one man, then the other.

“Hi,” greets Bucky, tipping his chin at the guy in a bro move because he doesn’t want to put down his beer and also the dude looks like a bro. Clint reciprocates.

He’s a bro.

Nat rolls her eyes.

“Time for _my_ introductions. Dumbass, meet James. James, Idiot Man who thinks having the ER as a second home is ‘cool.’” Nat spits the last word with such venom that Bucky and Clint both cringe- Bucky knowingly and Clint sheepishly.

“He’s your mysterious boyfriend?” ventures Bucky. Clint doesn’t look like much, though he’s tall and blond and attractively scruffy. He looks like he’s come out the worse end of more than his fair share of fights despite his impressive musculature- yellowing bruises and scabbing scrapes cover his skin and a white band aid sits on the bridge of his nose.

“I’m your boyfriend?”

“Nat has a boyfriend?”

“Why does everybody sound so surprised?” asks Nat, looking peeved and thoroughly offended.

***

“Clint seems like a cool guy.”

Bucky and Steve are sitting in their own little corner of the roof, watching Cap gift Pizza Dog with doting, slobbering kisses. Bucky watches them tussle, worried that Lucky’s single eye would put him at a disadvantage, but he seems to be holding his own against the younger dog.

Steve’s blond head is resting neatly on Bucky’s thighs with the rest of his body curled into a little comma, a solid heavy warmth. Bucky’s slowly stroking the sandy strands of hair with his flesh-and blood hand.

“Mmm, yeah. There was a whole thing a while back with the Russian Mafia or something. Sam and I weren’t living here then, but I’ve heard bits and pieces of the story from neighbors.”

Steve grimaces. “I think that’s why he lost part of his hearing, when they sent someone to go after him or something.”

The topic’s getting a bit dark. Bucky changes the subject.

“So what’s up with the sign language? How come you can do it?”

Steve turns over in Bucky’s lap to face him.

“I was partially deaf in one ear when I was a kid, so I had to learn it. It’s gotten a lot better now, but I still sometimes have trouble hearing“.

He flaps his hands. “It’s a cool way to communicate without others understanding what you’re saying, though sometimes it’s kinda obvious, like this:”

Steve presses the tips pointer finger and thumb of one hand together and forms a fist with the other, leaving the index finger standing up. He slides the pinched fingers down the index finger. It looks like he’s peeling a-

“Banana?”

Steve pulls Bucky down and pecks him chastely on the mouth.

He comes back up feeling smug.

“Cool. Teach me another.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH LOOK ANGST IN MY FLUFF-A-THON. Poor Clint <3  
> Fraction and Aja's Hawkeye gives me life though. 2012 Hawkeye is so hardcore and goofy at the same time I lOVE HIM SO MUCH and you guys should check it out if you like funny bow 'n arrow dudes. Fraction's writing is amazing and uugghh Aja's style is like art porn it's so good <3 Also, there is a lot of purple and Hawkeye (Kate Bishop) is even cooler.  
> Next Chapter: Steve and Bucky go on a date...to Coney Island!!!  
> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


	7. In which Bucky Barnes holds Steve's hand a lot and buys him candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go on a date to Coney Island. They watch the sunset and talk about the Earth's rotations. Steve gets a bit chilly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idiot got into two colleges, so she's writing a celebration chapter a day early. GUESS WHO'S GOING TO COLLEGE, Y'ALL! Don't worry- you're still going to get your regularly scheduled update tomorrow and Monday, which makes three, maybe four chapters in like two days. I'm going to spoil you guys because I feel great and I love you. This chapter is a little longer than usual, so I'm hoping it'll satisfy some of you 'til tomorrow *squints at readers* you know who you are :D

**5:30 pm Friday**

“Hello?”

“Hi Steve! Uh, I just wanted to make sure we were still on for tomorrow?”

“Of course!”

“Okay. Okay, cool, cool. Bye!”

“Bye?”

***

**10:00 am Saturday**

“Hi Stevie.”

“Hi Buck.”

“So, uh, ‘m calling to remind you! About our date! 3:00 on the dot! Don’t forget!”

“…okay, Buck. Where are you taking me, by the way?”

“It’s a surprise! Don’t worry about it! Bye Steve! See you later!”

Bucky hangs up. Steve turns to Sam, looking confused. Sam returns his look, equally as baffled.

“…Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“No offense to Barnes, but…what the hell was that?”

***

**2:30 pm Saturday**

“Hi-“

“I know! I know! I’m dressed, I’m ready, and we’re gonna have a great time! Calm down!”

“Okay. Bye Steve!”

“Bye, Buck.”

Natasha’s head eerily swivels to face Bucky as he hangs up.

“Uh, Nat? Everything okay?”

“You _idiot!_ ”

“Nat! Pleasepleaseplease keep your eyes on the road! I’m too young and beautiful to die!”

***

_Ding!_

Steve takes a few calming breaths and walks to the door _._ He opens it to see Bucky standing there, grinning from ear to ear as an extremely bored looking Natasha lurks behind him.

Bucky’s dressed in jeans with the cuffs rolled up and a dark blue button-down, sleeves pushed to his elbows. His pale ankles are showing above the low line of his socks.

 “Stevie!”

“Hi Bucky!”

“You ready to go?”

Steve laughs, patting his pockets for show. “Inhaler, keys, phone, wallet- I’m good to go!”

They grin shyly at one another before Natasha makes a noise of disgust and _shoves_ them together. Bucky falls against Steve, chest to chest.

“Can you lovebirds just get on with it already?”

Steve and Bucky are wearing matching blushes. Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Steve wordlessly holds out a hand, and Bucky takes it.

Clint pops his head out of the apartment. He’s holding half of a chocolate-chip waffle in one hand and wrestling a shoe from Pizza Dog’s mouth with the other.

“Is that Tasha?”

 

***

Natasha’s driving, ceaselessly grumbling good-naturedly about being forced to chauffeur two idiots. Clint sits next to her, sorting through a quiver of what he fondly calls “trick arrows”. The two are going to a shooting range or something after Steve and Bucky are dropped off. Bucky thinks they’re kinda weird.

 “…and next up in our super spring songs playlist is Taylor Swift’s ‘Bad Blood’!”

Bucky groans. He hates pop with a passion.

“Ow!”

“Driver chooses the music, _dickwad_.”

Okay, how did Nat know he was reaching forward without even looking?

Clint makes sympathetic noises from his spot in the passenger seat.

Maybe Steve will coo over Bucky’s war wound.

“Steve-“

Steve looked over from where he was staring out the window, watching the buildings fly by.

“Aw, does Bucky Bear want Steve to kiss his boo-boo?”

“Hell yeah.”

***

“Stevie.”

Bucky gently shakes Steve awake. They’ve been driving for barely an hour, but Steve must have been exhausted.

He groggily lifts his blond head and wipes away a bit of drool.

It’s cute.

Bucky’s vibrating in his seat. “Steve, we’re here!”

Steve sits up and peers out the window. “Coney Island? I haven’t been here in ages!”

Bucky nods.

“Me neither! Let’s go!”

***

Steve shifts his weight onto his other foot, stretching over Bucky’s shoulder to look down the line for the Cyclone. There’re about five people in front of them. Bucky had dragged them all the way to the ancient roller coaster the second they exited the car, yelling something about it being tradition to ride the Cyclone first thing.

“Bucky…”

Bucky smiled and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there with you!”

Steve’s stomach flip-flops uncomfortably. This wasn’t going to be good.

***

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Stevie, I’m here.”

Bucky smoothes Steve’s hair off his damp forehead rubbing his back soothingly as he retches over a trash can, cursing himself for the hundredth time. He should’ve seen how nervous Steve was waiting in line, but no, he had to be selfish and force Steve into doing what he wanted.

Steve’s back straightens under Bucky’s hand as he turns around to face him. Steve’s face is flushed, mouth pulled into a grimace. Fumbling for the water bottle, he gargles a few times, spitting into the garbage can to get rid of the taste.

“’m fine now,” Steve declares, straightening his shirtfront.

“Are you sure? We could postpone the date, call it quits…fuck, Steve, I’m so sorry I ruined it.”

Steve glares at him. “I’m fine. Let’s just…not do that again.” He softens. “Now come on, we’ve got the rest of the day together!”

Bucky ducks his head and kisses Steve softly, drawing back to take his hand. He was going to make it up to Steve, he vowed.

***

“Buck,” puffs Steve, as he tries to catch up, “slow down.”

“Oops.” Bucky grins in apology and takes the giant teddy bear from Steve’s arms. It was as tall as Steve was, and three times as wide. Bucky had seen it in one of the shops and immediately gravitated towards it, despite Steve’s protests.

Bucky’s head swivels around, narrowing his eyes to squint into the distance. Was that…a shooting game?

Steve heaves a sigh and runs after Bucky.

***

Bucky sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking the powdered sugar off his skin. Funnel cakes were delicious, but they were so messy to eat.

The two are taking a much-needed rest on a bench, looking over the beach as they eat. Well, Bucky’s eating. Steve had only nibbled delicately at his hot dog, afraid that it might unsettle his stomach.

Bucky picks up another paper-wrapped hot dog, dripping with ketchup and cheese, and swallows it in three bites. Steve’s picking up speed, hungrily taking bites out of his food, leaning against Bucky’s warmth. “Steve,” chews Bucky thoughtfully, “when was the last time you came here?”

Steve wipes his mouth with a napkin and tilts his face towards the sky, soaking in the late-afternoon sun.

“Must’ve been two years ago, when my mom died. She’d take me here every year on my birthday, and we’d go to the aquarium and swim in the ocean and stay here until it got dark. Then we’d go see the fireworks and have cake. Every year.”

Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s temple, inhaling the scent of his hair.

“She died, and I couldn’t come back without her. I thought, if I got to have fun, enjoy the things we enjoyed together while she was dead, then it wasn’t right. But- I’m glad you brought me here, Buck. I’d forgotten how much I loved this place.”

Steve smiles. He doesn’t looks sad. Just a little wistful. Happy.

“She sounds great,” said Bucky, “a real stand-up woman. And I’d bet you that if she were here now, seeing you ‘n me having the time of our lives here, she’d be real happy.”

“Yeah,”

Steve stands and stretches, flashing Bucky a grin and a little strip of his stomach as his shirt rides up.

“So, you wanna hit the carousel next? I hear they renovated it recently.”

“Last one there’s a rotten egg!”

Steve laughs and darts away, and Bucky chases after him, stopping to toss out their trash and grabbing Teddy by the paw.

***

They’ve been there for four hours now, playing games and walking and talking. The sun has just set, leaving a faint red glow on the horizon. The sky is dabbed with blots of pink and purple clouds.

Steve and Bucky are at the top of the Wonder Wheel, taking in the sunset and the flashing lights of the rides as Coney Island slipped into night. It was still loud, children and harried parents squeezing out the last of their energy for one more go at the Cyclone and the bumper cars. They sit in comfortable silence.

Bucky had bought him three disposable cameras, and the third one was nearly used up. Steve lifts it to his face and snaps a picture of Bucky, who turns to look fondly at him, the side of his face lit up in orange and yellow against a backdrop of darkening blue.

“Hey, punk, whatcha got there?”

“Nothing,” Steve hums, snapping another picture as Bucky reaches over to drag him half into his lap.

They share a lingering kiss as the wheel jars back into action, Steve falling over to press Bucky into the side of their car. The shutter clicks again, lens aimed at their faces as Steve holds it an arm’s length away, capturing the moment.

They break apart a few minutes later, Bucky keeping Steve’s forehead touching his with a hand cupping the back of his head.

“I’d ask you if the world turns for you too when we kiss, but-“

Bucky waves his arm at the interior of the car. “We’re kinda in a moving amusement park ride right now, so I guess that question doesn’t need answering.”

He laughs, embarrassed.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, “Yeah, it does.” And Bucky doesn’t know if Steve’s talking about their kiss or his question, but Steve barrels on.

“It’s…our first kiss was on solid ground, remember?”

Bucky nods, eyes fixed on Steve’s as he talks on.

“’s a good thing it was, too, otherwise I’d be wondering if it was you or the ferris wheel.”

The Wonder Wheel starts moving again, on cue.

“Which one is it?”

Steve kisses the corner of his mouth.

“You.”

They eventually have to get off- not, unfortunately, in the fun way, but because the girl running the wheel had to ask them, repeatedly, to exit the car and let the next passengers on.

***

Steve tugs his sleeves over the ends of his fingers as he stands inside the sweet shop, holding Ted and following Bucky around the shop, looking over the brightly colored displays. It’s getting cooler, and he can’t wait to get home and have a cup of hot tea.

Bucky cries out with delight, holding up a several candied apples and a package of Charleston Chews. He makes the purchase and shows Steve as they exit, then wrinkles his brow in concern as he notices the way Steve is hugging the bear. “You okay?”

Steve shivers. “Just cold.” The gusts had started to come in from the ocean, chilling the skin and dropping the temperature. Bucky was fine, but Steve was feeling it.

“Wait here.” Bucky ushers Steve back in.

Steve could do that. The shop was still open and warm, smelling pleasantly of popcorn and sugar. Bucky hands him the bag and darts out the door.

\--

Bucky had come back, bearing his gift proudly in his hands. It was a huge green hoodie with a kangaroo pocket to keep his hands warm in.

Steve falls a little deeper in love with Bucky.

Bucky, who had spent the day with him and buying him candy, more than making up for his mistake earlier that day. Bucky, who Ma would’ve loved and coddled and approved of wholeheartedly. Bucky, who had just told him that being with Steve made his head spin and the ground shift under his feet, who had run down the boardwalk to grab a sweater for Steve.

“C’mere.”

Steve pulls Bucky down into a sweet kiss, trying for eloquence with the softness of his lips and the taste of cotton candy on his tongue, as the cashier averts her eyes and awkwardly straightens the lollipops on the counter.

Like every time they’ve kissed, Steve feels the world tilt underneath him.

***

Clint’s driving this time, Nat sitting in the passenger seat, asleep with a smug look resting on the curve of her mouth. She probably beat Clint in a shooting contest or something, thinks Bucky, and rubs his cheek against the soft strands of Steve’s hair. They’re squashed together in the backseat to make space for Teddy, whose head thumps softly against the window every time the car accelerates and stops.

“So, did you guys have a good time?”

“Sure did,” murmurs Bucky sleepily, running his fingers through Steve’s hair, scritching at the short bristles at the nape of his neck. He works it into spikes and flattens it again.

“The best time of our lives,” adds Steve, twining the fingers of his right hand and Bucky’s left hand together on Bucky’s thigh, warm flesh and cold metal. They fall asleep together, easing through the Brooklyn streets towards home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been to Coney Island in ages. The last time was, I believe, in middle school, so like, four years ago? :( I had to look stuff up on the official website. Back then, I wasn't tall enough to ride the Cyclone, but I definitely am now! I need to make a day trip of it one last time before I go off to college. *sighs*
> 
> I donated blood yesterday and now I have the sniffles. WHY IS MY IMMUNE SYSTEM NOT DOING ITS JOB?? GIMME BACK MY WHITE BLOOD CELLS I NEED THEM. Whatevs. Keep the comments and kudos coming! They're like medicine, really. <3  
> Next Chapter: Sam's B-day partay  
> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


	8. In which Bucky Barnes gets turnt as heck and has a sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam hits 30. Everybody gets drunk in celebration. The boys play Mario Kart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much a crack chapter so ignore this if the characters get too OOC for your liking. Enjoy!

Sam’s chosen to make his 30th birthday a small celebration- just his friends. He’d be visiting his family over the weekend for a bigger party, but right now, it’s close and comfortable.

Steve spent the afternoon decorating the apartment, pushing the furniture to the walls to make space and digging the disco ball out of retirement for this special occasion. Peggy and Sharon came over to help with the cake, and Bucky was in charge of refreshments, so, alcohol.

Lots of it.                      

“Hey Nat, where’d you put the good vodka? You know, the one from when you won it off that guy in an arm-wrestling tournament?”

“In the rum raisin ice cream carton.”

That’s…well, that’s pretty smart of her, actually. Bucky hates rum raisin ice cream like nothing else- he’d refuse to eat it even if it was the only ice cream flavor in the world.

Bucky digs around in the freezer and pulls out the carton, rimed with ice. Pulling off the cover, he reveals a clean interior and a full bottle of liquid fire.

“You don’t mind if I take it to Sam’s birthday party? I know how much you like your alcohol.”

Nat shrugs, hooking an elbow over the back of the couch.

“I can always win another bottle. Fool never knows when to stand down. He’s been giving me the stink eye for months. It’s time to put him back in his place.” She holds out a dirty plate and fork.

“Give me another piece of that quiche, Barnes, and make it big.”

Bucky obeys like the good roommate he is. Now where did he put the hard cider?

***

Sam comes home at 5:00pm on the dot to a loud, colorful reception. Steve and Bucky toss paper confetti on him; Sharon snaps a pointy paper hat on his head, declaring him the birthday king; Peggy blows a party horn, and Clint and Natasha pop the champagne (Bucky bought it last-minute at a Duane Reade while hunting for birthday candles, a last-minute request from Steve that came in the form of a harried phone call).

Cap barked, excited because everyone else was.

“Wow,” he says, deadpan, “Boy howdy am I surprised.”

The party was on.

***

**5:47 pm**

Somewhere towards the beginning, Clint (or maybe Natasha) had spiked the punch even though _WE ARE ALL ADULTS HERE AND THERE IS NO NEED TO SPIKE THE PUNCH WITH VODKA WHEN THERE IS_ LITERALLY ALCOHOL IN THE PUNCH, CLINT.

Which was why everybody proceeded to get crunk out of their minds, excluding Nat and Clint because they guzzled that shit down like it was mother’s milk on a daily basis, and Sharon, who was underage.

Okay, so she had a sip or two, but _that was it I promise_.

Cap was safe and sound in Steve’s bedroom with a dish of food and his favorite chew toys.

Steve, the lightweight, had bypassed tipsy and was now out of his mind drunk. He was hopped up on one of Clint’s concoctions and had gotten up on a table, singing Celine Dion’s very well known song, _My Heart Will Go On._

Sam was right up there with him, spreading his wings- ahem, arms- and bellowing _I Believe I can Fly_ from the top of his birthday-boy lungs _._

Clint was teaching Sharon and Peggy how to make a Molotov cocktail, and Bucky and Natasha were yabbering in rapid-fire Russian, downing Jello-shots like no tomorrow.

“ _I BET I COULD BEAT YOU IN A THUMB-WRESTLING MATCH,”_ shouted Bucky, though his face was six inches from Nat’s.

_“OH YEAH, BARNES? WHAT’RE YOU BETTING?”_

Bucky slammed an empty shot glass onto the table.

 _“ONE_ YEAR _OF DISH DUTIES.”_

_“Bring it.”_

***

**8:00 pm**

At 8:00, the pizza came, and the delivery boy was greeted by a weeping Bucky and giggling Steve, who shoved a wad of bills at him and grabbed the boxes with a full-face wink.

Which was really a blink wherein his entire face scrunched up into a rather confused expression.

“PIZZA!” Hollered Steve and Bucky, and the partygoers cheered.

***

**9:24 pm**

“CAKE!” Hollered Sam, as the lights went off and Peggy carried in the cake, and proceeded to sober up, watching the dancing candlelight.

“I jus’ wanna say,” he slurred, somehow with a straight face, “That this was THE ROCKINGEST YEAR I HAVE EVER HAD, AM I RIGHT?”

“Hell YEAH!”

“An’ an’, I jus’ wanna thank my buddy Steve for his companionship, an’ Pegs n’ Sharon for being baking goddesses, an’ Barnes for making Steve so, so, so, so, so happy-”

“How many ‘so’s’ was that,” whispered Steve, loudly.

“I dunno, prolly like, like, eleven.” answered Bucky

 “-an’ Clint for being an AWESOME landlord and Nat for…well, Nat.”

“Damn straight!”

Sam blew out the candles, and everybody clapped politely, then lunged for the cake.

***

**11:12pm**

“PRESENTS!” hollered the partygoers, and gave Sam his presents.

From Steve was the digital painting he did of Sam, printed onto really nice paper and framed. Everybody oohed and ahhed.

“Thank you,” sniffed Sam, slinging an arm over Steve’s bony shoulders, “Thank you.”

Peggy and Sharon gave Sam a membership to the Bronx Zoo.

“There’s _birds_ there,” hissed Sharon.

Peggy grabbed Sam’s face, looking into his eyes, “ _So many birds.”_

Natasha gave Sam alcohol.

She pointed at the label. “There’s an eagle on it.”

Clint had pulled some strings at a wild bird sanctuary so that Sam could look at falcons and hawks up close and get to learn about falconry.

“Oh my god,” wailed Sam, hugging Clint, “Marry me.”

Bucky gave Sam a Starbucks gift card.

“You’re always going on about their green tea frappes,” he explained, “might as well get a whole bunch on me.”

Steve kissed him. “You’re so sweeeeeet!”

**1:34 am**

At around midnight, the alcohol had pretty much worn off, and Clint and Natasha retired to Clint’s apartment. Peggy and Sharon called a cab, giving Sam, Steve, and Bucky sloppy kisses on the cheek, leaving the three boys to clean up.

Which they were totally gonna do- just not now.

“STEVE YOU TRAITOR I TRUSTED YOU!” shrieks Bucky, as Steve sends a red shell flying towards him.

On the screen, Yoshi spins over the edge of the bridge, Bowser taking his place as first, pumping his fist.

“First rule of Mario Kart is, never trust Rogers!” calls Sam, as Princess Peach went from zero to a hundred real quick in the wrong direction.

Steve cackles, and rolls off the couch.

***

**2:48 am**

“When do you hafta go home, Bucky?”

Bucky puts down his controller and turns to look at the wall clock.

“Uh, three hours ago, prolly?” He tries to shrug, but just lolls his head ineffectively.

“I dunno, I don’t have anything tomorrow, but it’s kinda late.”

Sam gasps.

“Stay with us, Barnes!”

Steve choruses in: “Yeah, Buck, stay with us!”

“Mmmmkay.”

“Whoo!” Sam whoops, “Bois Nite In!”

***

**4:32 am**

“’night, Sam,”

“Goodnight, Steve, Goodnight, Rogers.”

Steve and Bucky carry their mug cookies into Steve’s room, stepping over a sleeping Cap and curling up underneath the covers, eating their baked bits of heaven.

Bucky’s dressed in one of Sam’s old pajama shirts and his own boxers. Steve is wearing flannel bottoms and a white t-shirt.

Sam had given them both a lewd look as he closed the door, which probably meant, _get it on with your clothes off_ , but they were both too tired to do anything other than cuddle.

Bucky polishes off his mug cookie and finishes Steve’s, much to Steve’s sleepy amazement.

“Buck, you’re a bottomless hole, didja know that?”

“I’ll show you a bottomless hole,” leers Bucky, and promptly falls asleep.

Steve follows him not long after, belly full and content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH UGH IM SO CONGESTED KILL ME  
> I have a poetry project to do so excuse any typos I gotta go work now byeeeeee!  
> Next up: Bucky wakes up in Steve's bed and decides that he very much likes waking up in Steve's bed.  
> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


	9. In which Bucky Barnes gets to second base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky stays the night and happens upon a sudden realization. Steve has an old rabbit toy. Bucky gets some action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stayed home sick and wrote this. Heheheh. It's only the tail end of a cold, but I haven't had a sick day in ages and it's senior year. I deserve a rest. Anyway, here's the latest chapter on my trash OTP Stucky. It gets a bit hot and heavy but nothing too explicit. I'll change the rating soon, but it's not too bad. Enjoy!

Bucky wakes up during the night, warm and cozy. It’s still dark out, from what he can see. There’s another person in his bed, and he panics for a moment. Then he remembers. _Oh, right, the sleepover._

During the night, Steve migrated to the inner curve of Bucky’s body. They’re fitted snugly from shoulders to knees, like he belongs there. Bucky smiles to himself and hugs Steve closer, drifting back to sleep.

***        

Clanging pans and soft voices pull Bucky from his restful slumber. The other side of the bed is still warm, but cooling. He recalls Steve’s body, small and bony, pressed against him.

Bucky blushes. He’s painfully hard _in Steve’s bed._

The bedroom door is cracked open, the scent of pancakes and coffee wafting through to his nose. He tosses off the covers, then flails a bit, arms tangled in the sheets.

Bucky gets up and wanders to the bathroom, stumbling over Cap, who’s made it his personal mission to creep Bucky out, standing outside the bathroom. Watching him. Bucky flings the door open.

“Cap,” he hisses, mortified, “Please don’t.”

Bucky hears the sound of bare feet on wood too late, and then Steve is standing there, all five foot six of sunshine and daisies. Bucky’s happy to see him.

Er, too happy.

“Breakfast’s ready,” chirps Steve, coming in close for a peck on the cheek. And it would be totally fine letting Steve smell his morning breath, except Steve gets a faceful of morning breath _and_ Bucky’s morning wood poking cheerfully at his hip.

Steve’s eyes go wide, and Bucky closes his eyes, face turning fire-engine red.

“I hope you like pancakes.”

Steve grins lewdly, gives Bucky’s ass a firm pat, and strides away.

“Ah.” Chokes out Bucky. _Oh god why._

***

By the time Bucky sits down at the table, his erection has disappeared, though the embarrassment is still fresh in his mind. Steve is busying himself at the stove, stacking pancakes onto the plates and taking a carton of strawberries out of the fridge. He turns around as soon as Bucky enters, though.

“Morning,” Sam calls, and lift a mug, “You want some coffee?”

Bucky nods, avoiding Steve’s steady gaze.

Steve comes over, placing a plate in front of Bucky. “Morning, Buck,” he says, “Hope you’re hungry. I sure am, if you know what I mean.”

Bucky refuses to blush, and picks up the fork. He focuses instead on the towering pile of pancakes, fluffy and golden, dripping with maple syrup and covered with strawberries. He cuts himself a piece with the edge of the fork, and, and,

“Jesus Christ on a cracker,” breathes Bucky, “Holy cannoli this is Paradise.”

He takes another bite and moans. “Oh my God Steve I have never had anything this good in my mouth before.”

Steve grins horribly and leans down to murmur in his ear as he sets down the coffee like the little piece of shit he is.

“I’ll put something even better in your mouth, Buck, don’t you worry.”

Sam shakes his head. “Can you guys not do foreplay at the breakfast table?”

Bucky doesn’t care. Bucky would seriously screw Steve five ways to Sunday _right there on the breakfast table_ in front of Sam if he could have Steve make him pancakes every morning for the rest of his life.

Bucky stills, and takes a scalding hot sip of coffee to clear his mind.

Nope, nothing’s changed.

He wants this for the rest of his life, damn if they’ve been dating for barely two months.

Alright, that’s cool.

***

Steve needs to leave for classes and Sam has to go to work, but they both insist on Bucky staying.

“You can walk Cap- I’m pretty sure he’s been waiting for this since you took him all the way to Manhattan on foot.”

Bucky relents, because a) Cap is a sweetheart, and b) he can’t say no to Steve.

“I’ll be home by 3,” promises Steve, sighing into Bucky’s open mouth. He lingers, licking the taste of sugar and tea from Steve’s lips before Steve pushes away.

So Bucky gets his goodbye kiss and a wave, and then the door shuts on the mostly empty apartment.

Bucky looks at Cap. Cap looks at him.

“Guess it’s you and me again, huh?”

***

Bucky fools around on Mario Kart for a bit, then gets bored and does the dishes. He straightens up the living room too, because why not.

It’s noon by the time he finishes cleaning Steve’s room. He doesn’t touch the art stuff, but he vacuums and makes the bed and tosses dirty clothes into the hamper and folds the clean ones.

_Hey Steve u mind if I look thru ur art stuff XX_

Steve replies a minute later.

_No problem go right ahead : ) <3_

Bucky indulges in a little grin, and screenshots the message, saving the text.

He looks around the room. Steve had given him a brief tour the first time, and showed him his portfolio, but Bucky hadn’t really been paying attention, not with the hundred pounds of sweet, sweet butterscotch standing next to him at the time.

An ancient rabbit slumps over atop a stack of novels on the desk by the window. Its features are embroidered in soft pink and black thread. Long floppy ears hang from its head and a bow tie adorns its neck. Bucky’s heart melts a little at that.

“Can’t believe Steve keeps his childhood toys,” says Bucky to himself.

“You’re practically an antique, huh?” he directs this at the rabbit, expecting no answer and getting none. Bucky shakes his head and makes a note to ask Steve its name.

He wanders over to the sketchbooks and flips carefully through the pages. This one seems to be dedicated mostly to portraits and anatomy. Bucky picks out Sam and Sharon and Peggy’s face, as well as his own features towards the back of the book, sleeping.

“Oh, Steve,” he whispers. Oh, Steve.

Bucky looks through the watercolors and charcoal drawings, and reaches the etchings, where he suddenly starts giggling, remembering the first time they met.

_Wanna come up and see my etchings?_

Bucky would get to see a lot more than just those, if he was lucky.

***

Bucky takes Cap out for a walk. He strolls past delis and clothing stores and restaurants with the dog at his heel, wandering aimlessly and turning over this new development in his head. Without anything to keep him busy but the even _thump thump thump_ of his boots and the occasional car passing by, he has plenty of time to think it over.

James Buchanan Barnes, in love with one Steven Grant Rogers for two months and counting.

Well, his sister did always say he was one for moving quickly.

***

“Honey, I’m home!” Steve enters the apartment, catching a whiff of something rich and savory. His mouth suddenly floods with saliva and his stomach gurgles. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he came home.

The oven is on, and Steve looks through the glass at a foil-covered dish. He checks the timer. Fifteen more minutes.

“Buck?”

Steve pokes his head into the living room. Cap bounces up to Steve, _woof_ ing softly.

“Hiya, Cap. Who’s a good boy, huh?”

The light of the television gets his attention. Bucky must’ve found the entire five seasons of _Dog Cops_ on DVD, then. The man of the hour is dozing on the plush rug in front of the couch, forearm thrown over his eyes. A glass of water sits by his side.

Steve kneels down. “Buck, I’m back.”

Bucky jerks awake, and his face brightens. “Steve!”

“Have you been cooking and cleaning the entire day?” Steve accuses.

“Er,” Bucky scratches the back of his neck. “Pretty much.”

He laughs. “’m like a good little house spouse, waiting for his boyfriend to come home from work.”

“Mmm.”

Steve lowers himself onto Bucky’ body.

“And what else has my house spouse been doing?”

Bucky curls his fingers under the hem of Steve’s shirt and rubs his knuckles on the soft skin.

“Walked Cap.” Steve runs the tip of his nose along Bucky’s collarbone. “Um, baked. Chocolate-chip cookies and brownies.”

“Sounds like you’ve been a busy bee.”

“Sure have. And is this busy bee gonna get any honey?”

Steve leans in close, lips barely brushing Bucky’s.

“Sure will.”

Bucky strains for Steve’s mouth and kisses him long and soft and slow, sweet tongue and slack jaw and gentle nipping teeth. Steve’s eyelashes flutter shut like moth wings. Bucky wants to touch them.

“Buck.” Bucky hums and reaches up under his shirt to spread his hands wide across Steve’s back, stroking the wings of his shoulder blades and running his palms up and down the knobs of his spine.

Steve exhales. “Feels good.”

This is the farthest Bucky’s ever gotten with Steve, leagues away from syrupy kisses and pats on the bottom. He’s almost afraid to keep going for fear of getting interrupted.

Steve must be realizing this too, because he’s pressing himself infinitely closer to Bucky, breathing heavily. He makes little noises into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky swallows them up like they’re chocolate drops, like something heady and dark and addicting. He wants to drink him down.

The oven timer goes off.

Bucky thuds the back of his head down on the thick fibers of the rug. “Goddammit.”

Steve clambers off him, laughing, and holds out a hand to pull Bucky up.

***

“My world-famous lasagna,” declares Bucky, as he slides out the casserole dish, hands clad in oven mitts shaped like dog’s heads. They’re cute. He needs to ask Steve where he got them from.

Steve takes two plates from the drying rack, and eyes the dish.

“Smells great.”

Bucky peels off the aluminum foil and pokes critically at the lasagna. It’s got three layers of cheese, meat and pasta, all topped with a delicious-looking tomato sauce.

“Whoa, Buck, did you make all this from scratch?”

Bucky sniffs. “Of course I did.”

Steve hip-checks Bucky aside to pull out the silverware drawer.

“It looks amazing.”

“Should be. Nat says it’s my number-one best quality. It’s how I seduce young people into my bed.”

Bucky waggles his eyebrows at Steve. “She’s just kidding, though. It’s really my dashing good looks and charming personality.”

“Sure it is, dear,” says Steve, fake-sweet.

Bucky growls playfully and grabs him around the waist.

***

“Whew,” puffs Steve as he wipes his mouth on a napkin, “I’m stuffed.”

Bucky turns around, sponge in hand.

“Oh yeah, what’s the deal with that stuffed rabbit of yours? He looks really old.”

“He is.” Steve walks over to place his dishes in the sink, kissing the side of Bucky’s neck and picking up a dishtowel. “Nearly as old as I am.”

“What’s his name?” Bucky hands over a wet fork for Steve to dry.

“Bunny.”

Steve ignores Bucky’s twitching lips.

“I was two, okay? It was my first word.”

“Over Mommy or Daddy? Ooooh, harsh.”

Steve flicks a handful of suds at Bucky. Bucky retaliates by blowing bubbles at him.

“It’s not my fault. They kept waving the thing at me and asking me if I wanted the bunny, so it’s only natural that my first word be the one I heard the most.”

Bucky chortles. His parents must’ve been so heartbroken.

“Shut up.” Steve holds out a hand. “Next plate.”

***

Steve and Bucky are shirtless on Steve’s bed. Steve dragged him there after washing the dishes, claiming something about getting exercise after that meal, the smooth talker.

Bucky’s hands glide over warm, satiny skin. He nibbles at the hinge of Steve’s jaw, breath hot in his ear.

Steve grabs his face to kiss him.

“Mmmph, tickles.”

Bucky makes a sound low in his throat and wraps Steve’s arms around him, hands on his back, over shifting muscles and hot flesh.

Steve makes a startled noise, surprised to find so much bulk on Bucky’s body.

“There’s more where that came from,” huffs Bucky, crawling down Steve’s chest. He laves at a pebbling nipple with the flat of his tongue, then moves to the other. He tastes like skin, salty clean sweat. Steve’s starting to pant now, and, oh, doesn’t that just get Bucky going. Nothing he loves more than a heavy breather in bed.

 Steve arches up towards Bucky’s mouth, fingertips digging deep into Bucky’s muscles. He’s bound to leave bruises in a couple of hours.

Bucky welcomes it, wanting to be marked up by Steve.

“Yeah, babydoll, make me feel it.” Steve laughs.

“What is this, nineteen forty-five?” But he squeezes harder.

Bucky rubs his cheek down Steve’s sternum and his flat belly. He needs to eat more.

“You’re like a cat, Buck.” Artist’s fingers weave into his thick brown hair and tug gently. Bucky nearly starts purring, enjoying the sensation. “More of that, Stevie,” He encourages, moving further down. Steve obliges.

Bucky encounters the button of Steve’s jeans and glances up at Steve.

“Yeah,” breathes Steve, “yeah, go ahead.”

Bucky undoes the button and pulls down the zipper, sliding Steve’s pants off along with his socks. He runs a finger underneath the waistband.

“You sure?”

Steve’s thighs fall open in response. Well, that’s as good an answer as he’s gonna get.

Bucky eagerly shoves Steve’s boxers down and-

“HOLY MOTHER OF-“

Sam slams the door shut.

Bucky tries not to cry.

He was going to throttle Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My nose hurts. Writing soft-core smut makes me happy. WHERE IS THE INTERNAL DIALOGUE??? Idk man I'm still getting used to writing so much. I hope my writing improves. It's a little bare bones right now. Remember, I am a tiny human bean that requires a constant showering of kudos, comments, and bookmarks bc I'm a thirsty lil shit.  
> Next up: Dinner date at Bucky's. Will the boys finally do the do? Or is Nat going to troll the heck out of them? Prolly the latter.  
> UPDATE: guys i'm so so sorry but this baby will be on temporary hiatus for about a month or so since i'll be working on my thing for the SamSteve exchange :D  
> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


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